


Promise me, Jon.

by BrazenMonkey



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book-Fandom, F/M, Tower of Joy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7486719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrazenMonkey/pseuds/BrazenMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If Joffrey finds out, he'll kill him. You know he will! You have to protect him!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise me, Jon.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh deary me....  
> I wrote this in a frenzy yesterday night and I feel a bit unsure. I had to bend a LOT of characters to fit this story. I pretty much made a bastardization of the entire Tower of Joy and of the R+L=J lore.
> 
> I always loved the story of Lyanna and Rhaegar, hopeless romantic that I am and I hope, this does it at least a bit of justice.
> 
> I chose Jon for the new secret keeper because he is almost as painfully honorable as Ned is. Like uncle, like, nephew, hm?

"House Lannister and House Stark have finally come to an arrangement regarding the alliance of their houses."

Eddard Stark smiles into the round. Four sons and two daughters stare back at him, his wife by his side. They look awfully tired and still very happy.

"We have decreed that the heiress of Winterfell shall wed the heir of Casterly Rock."

Jon suppresses a roll of his eyes. This had been the worst kept secret in the north.

"We are very proud to-"

"I cannot marry him, father."

Sansa's voice is small but loud enough to interrupt Eddard Stark, who stops mid-sentence.

Seven faces turn towards the newly-proclaimed bride, one of them that of a confused father. "Come again?"

Sansa shuffles her feet under the grey hem of her dress. "I cannot marry him."

"Sansa, what is wrong?"

She heaves a sigh that almost sounds like a dry sob. "He is cruel, father. He hurts people, he will hurt me, too."

"Sansa, don't be silly. Prince Joffrey comes from a long line of lords and is the heir to the throne. A well-mannered heir to the throne. You met him at the tourney of the Hand, remember? He could not stop talking about you afterwards!"

Sansa shakes her red mane and pulls her lips into an angry grimace. Real tears start cascading down her pretty face now. "How could you arrange this without asking if I even wanted this?"

Now it is the Lord of Winterfell who speaks, not her father. "We chose what is best for your future, Sansa. The betrothal is final." When he sees the glint of rebellion in her eyes, he sharpens his tone. "This is expected of you."

"You cannot make me!"

Catelyn cuts in, her voice much more soothing. She crosses the short distance to her first daughter and gently rubs the younger one's shoulders. "This is only maiden's nerves, sweetling. Don't you see? All you ever wanted was to marry a fine lord and now you'll even marry a prince!" The mother smiles at her daughter. "You'll be queen soon!"

Sansa looks up into her mother's face with her eyes brimming with tears. Catelyn's tone was supposed to cheer her up but instead Jon can see the little bit of weakness she had shown being closed away behind a door that she only rarely unlocks.

"You are right." She shimmies out of the grasp of her mother and her features are evened out now.

"I know and understand what is expected of me, father."

Eddard's stern face smoothes out. "Good, then. The matter is settled."

Jon doesn't think any of this is settled.

 

* * *

 

The beast of a man guides his fierce courser through the field and the hooves of the black stallion stamp right through the mixture of blood, intestines and dirt that had gathered at the bottom of the jousting ring.

The audience booms with applause at the surprise winner. No-one beats Ser Jaime Lannister at his best discipline, especially not a low-born man in service to his Grace. Quite a scandal.

Jon sighs happily as he discards his dented armour. Unseated in the first round, what a shame.

Clegane picks up the crown of blue roses from the boys by the little tents and Jon cast a glance at the crowd. By the high seats, his sister and King Joffrey are facing the winner as well, only Sansa applauding while Joffrey casts a bored look over to his servant while stealing sneaky glances at the prepared feast. Sansa looks exhausted, but her features are, as always, a well-schooled mask of polite interest. She is the perfect queen.

The crowd jeers as Clegane sets his stallion into a canter and ladies all over cry with excitement when the large dark horse nears the stands. Crowning a queen of beauty will be the grand finale of his streak of luck in this tourney. Even if he is only a very lowly lord, he is the winner, after all.

The applause dies down as Sandor Clegane reigns his horse past the lowborn crowd and the women's stupid smiles fade from their lips. He moves past the ladies in waiting and the last few claps cease almost immediately. He stops at the high seat, right in front of Sansa Stark, who stares at him with slightly parted lips.

With surprising grace, Sandor Clegane places the garland of roses in his Queen's lap.

Jon can hear his own swallow as loud as a drum in his ears. Never has he seen such a large crowd so quiet.

 

* * *

 

Their King raises his sword Widow's Wail and pulls roughly on the reins of his pure white gelding. "For the queen!"

"FOR THE QUEEN!" The troops echo, their armour clinking in resonance. Mounted lancers, archers, foot soldiers, thousands of men, young and old.

Eddard, Robb and Jon, the eldest men of House Stark, stand beside their King, will fight right in the vanguard. It is their battle as much as his, their sister and daughter as much as his wife.

Starks, Tullys, Baratheons against the Lannisters and the Cleganes. All for Her Grace, all for the stolen Queen to King Joffrey Baratheon.

Jon can spot Sandor Clegane in his massive armour, too, right at the front of his own troops. They are outnumbered, three to one, and yet Clegane has chosen to meet them on the field instead of hiding out in a siege.

 _If we can only take him prisoner_ , Jon thinks. If we can only find him alive, we will find her too. She is alive, he tells himself. He did not kill her.

Yet.

They must not let him escape. Her life depends on it, Jon is sure.

 

* * *

 

Joffrey's head could have been a ripe melon for all Clegane cared. He crushes the skull in between his large hands and blood and mush squirt out of his hands onto the ground. Mindlessly, Clegane drops the now headless corpse and does not bother wiping his hands. He grips his sword from where it is strapped to his hips and roars with fury and power.

Father is limping, Robb is losing considerable amounts of blood out of his left arm. Jon feels dizzy with heat in his armour and loss of blood from his side.

His father and brother are the closest to Clegane, the last ones standing that have a true cause to win for. The soldiers would lose a queen, they would lose a daughter and sister.

With pulled swords, they attack Sandor Clegane flat out.

Three men fight.

Three men fall.

 

* * *

 

 

As he pushes the door open, two chambermaids shrink back from a bed. The linens are as red as her hair, shimmering with the wetness of fresh blood. The salty, rusty smell of it pervades the air and reminds Jon of a battlefield. Then again, a battle has been fought for her and apparently, she did fight one, too.  
The lifeless figure on the bed stirs. "Jon?

Her voice breaks him from his immobility. "Sansa!" He leaves his sword by the end of the bed, hoping that there will be no more bloodshed. For her sake, but also for his.

His little sister can barely open her eyes. "Is that you?" she hushes, her lips only slightly parted, her word slurring.

"Is that really you?" From her bloody sides, she lifts her hand, also covered in ruby liquid, to reach for him. "You're not a dream..." Her voice sounds far too happy and hopeful given her current situation and fear grabs hold of Jon. The blood loss, the sheen of sweat on her forehead, maybe from a fever? If she is too delirious to realize...

"No, I'm not a dream." He fakes a smile that feels like broken teeth. He takes her sullied hand in his, careful to speak slowly and loudly. "I'm here, right here." As his hand rises to stroke back her sweat-soaked her, he accidently smears blood across her forehead, giving her even more the look of a soon-to-be corpse.

There is the faint trace of a smile on her face. "I've missed you, big brother."

Words cannot describe how happy he is to see her smile at him, seemingly whole for a moment. The horrors he had imagined that Clegane had done to her were all foolish nightmares. He wants to tell her, to reassure her. But their time is running out, judging by the still wet blood over her body. No congealing means the wounds are still open.

Jon settles for another indulgent smile. "I've missed you, too."

Her hand claws tighter around his as if she appreciated his company. Her breathing becomes heavier. "I want to be brave..." she sobs and closes her eyes, half in fear, half in pain.

What would she need bravery for now? He found her, it was over! "You are -"

"I'm not." she interrupts. No, Jon thinks, Sansa has always been many things, but bravery is no trait of hers. "I don't want to die..." she continues.

"You are not going to die." He had cast a half glance at his hands, still covered in the sticky blood, and it proves him utterly wrong. He would not let her die, could not. He had found her! The war was over, Sandor Clegane was slain on the battlefield, she was safe now, everything would be fine! Everything _had_ to be fine! Father, Rob, they could not have died in vain.

In his mindless anger and helplessness he turns to the two maids, who have been idly staring at their dying lady, useless things. "Get her some water!"

"No, not water, just listen..."

He ignores her little pleas. He had seen worse wounds healed, if only there is a capable man on hand. "Is there a maester?" What was she thinking not bringing anyone with her to take care of her?!

"Listen to me, Jon!" Her voice is suddenly strong and he knows deep down, that she will not be making it out of this tower alive. The urgency in her voice is frightening. With more strength than he would have attributed to her in her weakened state, she pulls him down to her and presses her white lips against his ear, whispering words only meant for him and him alone.

"His name is Tristan." Whose name? Out of the corner of his eyes he sees one of the maids scurrying to the other side of the room, secluded from his view. 

 Sansa is close to tears now, true despair in her tone."If Joffrey finds out, he'll kill him. You know he will! You have to protect him!"  The maid reappears and Jon thinks he is dreaming as he sees the bundle in her arms.

No, she didn't. She couldn't have. _They_ couldn't have. Not her, not him, not them.

"Promise me, Jon. Promise me!" She sobs and her voice still loses its strength and with fatigue, she leans her head back on the damp pillow.

A little squeaking heap is placed in his hands. A baby, still puffy and red with grime smeared all over its tiny face. It gurgles and opens its eyes for a second. The eyes focusing on Jon are greyish blue. Realization dawns on him as he holds the proof of Sansa's words in his hands. It bottoms out his stomach. Is this what their father and their brother had died for?

For a mere second he had forgotten his dying sister next to him. "Promise me, Jon!"

Her voice fades away and her eyes are closed now. She will not live to see the baby, _her son, his nephew_ , grow another day.

"Promise me..."

He wants to scream at her. He had placed all the blame on Sandor Clegane, on his greed and senseless lust for something not meant for him. Why? Why?! Because she did not love Joffrey?

_He is cruel, father. He hurts people, he will hurt me, too._

Because she had been right all those years ago that he had been cruel to her? Had he hurt her?

Had they all misunderstood the story? Was Joffrey the monster and Clegane the prince?

When he pulls his gaze away from the tiny baby, he finds his sister already dead.

**Author's Note:**

> ConCrit is highly appreciated, since this is very liberal with one of the most hyped up theories of the books (and now scenes of the show).


End file.
